The Timing and the Moment
by Nimthiriel Eruhin
Summary: Or, five times Rory failed in proposing to Amy, and one time he didn't have to.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Hello you gorgeous beasts. This is my first foray into Doctor Who as well as romance. I've always wondered how they ended up engaged, especially since Amy seems so bewildered by her decision in the first episodes of Series 5. The whole thing is finished, I'll be posting updates weekly. Much thanks for stopping by. The song I will be abusing before every chapter is Love Like Woe by The Ready Set, which wasn't a part of the plan at all until I needed a title. There's writing for you._

_Big thanks to my any betas: **blueskydog**, **ElvenWholockian**, and** Notasitseems-x. **_

* * *

><p><em>It's like a hurricane<em>  
><em>Speed train<em>  
><em>She's a moving car<em>  
><em>Go catch her in the fast lane<em>  
><em>Oh I gotta know<em>  
><em>Can I keep up with her pace?<em>  
><em>Kickin' into gear when I see that face<em>

_You can take up all my time 'cause you're the only one_  
><em>That can make a storm cloud break<em>  
><em>Pulling out the sun<em>  
><em>And I can't get caught in the rain<em>  
><em>Can I get your lips to speak my name?<em>

* * *

><p>Today. Rory was going to do it today.<p>

The sun shone into his room, and there was the sound of his dad moving around downstairs. He'd spent more than his usual five minutes (a whole fifteen, actually,) shaving his face and styling his hair. He made sure to add extra cologne, and then panicked and thought it might be too much and he'd knock his poor girlfriend (_girlfriend_!) flat, so had added a parka vest over his shirt to hopefully cover some of the smell.

Rory shuddered with nervousness and ruffled his spiky hair (Amy liked it that way. 'It looks like the latest in porcupine fashion' she'd said with a smile in her voice. Rory wore it like this ever since) before checking his pockets (ring in his back pocket, where he worried that it bulged too much), pulling on his trainers and walking out into the kitchen.

"Morning Dad," Rory greeted as he opened the refrigerator to retrieve the milk.

"Morning, son," his father said as he held the newspaper he was reading with one hand and nursing a cup of cloyingly sweet coffee with the other. "What have you got planned today? We could go golfing."

Today was Rory's day off. He pretended to everyone like he'd conveniently not been scheduled on a weekend, but he had actually had to beg and grovel at his supervisor's feet. It shouldn't have been such an ordeal since he would be making it up next week and he hadn't asked off since… since last year. Since the Doctor had been here.

The Doctor. Amy wouldn't stop talking about it, how she was right and no one could tell her otherwise anymore. She kept talking about how incredible he was and how she knew he would come back for her, and soon. She kept a bag packed by her back door for whenever it happened. Her childhood obsession had only just beginning to fade, and now it was worse than ever. Rory wanted her to forget about the Doctor. It was obvious he wasn't coming back at this point.

"Actually, I've got a date with Amy today," Rory said as he poured cereal into a bowl, the tinkly clattering of granola loud in the kitchen.

"Oh. Gotcha. Wouldn't want you to give that up," Dad said with an undercurrent that made Rory clench his teeth. "Best enjoy her while you can."

Rory said nothing, just ate his cereal at the counter in silence, aside from the granola that he was grinding up more than strictly necessary.

The doorbell rang (Amy wasn't supposed to be here for another ten minutes why was she here now…!) and Rory jumped, causing him to spill his cereal onto his jeans.

"Oh, seriously? Today, really?" Rory groaned, looking at his now-disgusting trousers.

"That'll be Amy," Dad said without looking up. Rory gritted his teeth again and mumbled something like _please distract Amy_ before dashing off to his room to grab another pair of jeans that were clean and un-wrinkly. He was wrestling off the wet fabric over his trainers with some difficulty when he heard his dad say, "Oh, he's just up in his room," and fell against the wall in his panic. He'd barely got the new pair on when Amy swung the door open.

"Hey, gorgeous," she said with her playful smirk, and strode up to kiss his cheek. Rory felt heat spreading down from the point of contact, and couldn't help a nervous smile.

"Hey. Sorry, you're a bit early."

"Oh? Do you want me to wait outside until it hits nine-thirty exactly?" Amy asked, her tone suddenly dangerous.

"No! No. It's good. You - you ready?" Rory put his hands in his pockets, and looked down. Great, he was messing this day up already.

"Course I am, come on!" Amy said with a laugh, and Rory realized that she had just been teasing him. He laughed in relief and put his hand in hers as they walked out of the house.

"Bye Mr. Williams!" Amy said with a cheerful wave at Rory's father. He waved back before cotinuing to squint at the newspaper, and took another drink of coffee.

Rory left without saying anything.

"So, where are we headed? You might as well tell me, I can see right through you," Amy said with a grin, pulling on his arm as they got onto their bicycles.

"It's a surprise," Rory insisted weakly.

"I hate surprises." Amy pulled her white helmet on over her red hair.

"Well, maybe you'll like this one. There's a first time for everything." Rory put up his kickstand, and mentally reminded himself of the roads he needed to take.

"Hey, no need to get tetchy," Amy grumbled, offended at his defensive tone. "You're in such a whiny mood today."

Rory swallowed the sting. "Ready?"

"Yeah. Lead the way," Amy said, sounding a bit bored.

Rory did, and off they went, riding through Leadworth's sleeping suburbs. The cobbled streets were smooth and perfect for biking, and the cool air felt cold as it rushed past Rory's face and ran its fingers through his hair.

"Hello Rory and Amy!" said a little girl on the sidewalk as they passed the duck pond. Rory recognized her as one of the disabled kids that him and Amy had played with while volunteering at the local hospital. She was in her wheelchair, and her and her mother waved as the young couple rode past. Amy laughed with delight and waved back at them, and Rory waved too, though he felt more like looking at the road and keeping both his hands solidly on the handles.

"Hey Amy!" some trendy-looking girl said as they went through town, and then giggled and whispered to the veritable murder of similar females around her. It was how Rory always thought of the group of girls they had gone to school with; crows. Amy got along with them now, but all through primary school and half of secondary, they avoided her since she was, first of all, Scottish and unapologetic about it, and she was known for being obsessed with her imaginary friend and having several psychiatrists.

Rory, of course, had been in love with her since he saw her. He'd seen her during lunchtime, playing football with the other kids. He knew now that she'd been trying to prove herself, but then it had seemed like she wasn't afraid of anything. He had been enchanted by how hard she could kick the ball; she kicked it so hard, in fact, that it sailed over the goal. The other kids whined about it and teased her, but she just kept her chin up proudly and marched to the back of the line to kick again. Rory ran up behind her, legs weak, but eager to talk to this new girl.

"Hi," Rory had said breathlessly.

She turned around and kicked him in the shin, hard.

"Ow! What was that for?" Rory said in a high-pitched voice of shock. And pain, mostly pain.

"Don't bother me," she said with a roll of her eyes, and then turned around. It was soon her turn again, and once again she kicked the ball way over the goal. She looked satisfied with herself, and Rory thought his mouth might be open in awe and he should probably close it.

Some random kid brought it back and placed it in front of Rory. The new fire-haired girl watched off to the side, arms crossed and smirking. Rory swallowed and swung as hard as he could, and missed the ball completely.

"Sorry," he said. He didn't even know who he was apologizing to. Maybe himself. He was unfortunately incredibly English.

"I like you. What's your name?" the girl said, taking his arm and leading him away from the mockery of the other kids.

"Rory."

"I'm Amelia. We're going to be friends," she informed him.

"Okay."

Ever since, he'd been following Amy around like a lemming, unable to tell her no. She'd hit him and tease him and test him, and he'd take it. One time, as a joke, he'd shoved her back, but it had been badly timed and she ended up falling and smashing her leg against the corner of a wooden table. As she laid there, groaning quietly, Rory had wanted nothing more than to die for harming her. He had run away, hearing something like 'It's okay' from her, but he later thought he must have been wrong.

"Hey," Amy said casually without waving as they pedaled by the group. She must have been thinking of her childhood too, because she rode up next to Rory and had a thoughtful expression on her face.

"You're really not going to tell me where we're going?" Amy asked, a hint of a smile in her voice.

"I will if you really want me to," Rory said, fond but defeated.

"Mmmm, no. I'll let you surprise me," she said cheekily and reached out to lightly bump his arm with her fist before surging ahead, giggling and challenging him to a race. Rory smiled involuntarily and followed along best he could, just like he always did.

* * *

><p>It had been a good ride - they'd stopped for lunch in a nice open field of soft grass. Rory brought the sandwiches and Amy brought the wine and glasses, carefully packed in her backpack. Rory had just asked her to bring any drinks, but he wasn't complaining. Another couple of hours, and Amy could smell the sea air, unmistakable in the air rushing past them, nipping gently at their faces.<p>

"Oh, yeah! I haven't been to the seaside in months!" Amy had said loudly, and pumped her fist in victory. "Good choice, Rory! Amy gives her approval."

Rory shrugged, feeling warm inside. "I thought you might like it."

A couple minutes later the ground turned to sand, and they went past several large sand dunes before coming to the shore. The sand looked brown-grey, a solution of sand and pebbles (mostly pebbles) that made walking barefoot very awkward and not to mention painful. The sky was a cautious mix of blue and grey. There weren't many people out today, since it was starting to get cold, well cold_er._ Mostly people were fishing, hoping to get a good catch.

They got off and walked their bikes to a rack and locked them up.

Then Amy draped her arms around Rory's neck and kissed him briefly. His heart swelled impossibly large and his stomach flipped about five times.

"I love it," she whispered, her smiling face only centimeters from his, with her perfect porcelain skin, hazel eyes, with stray ribbons of red floating lazily in the sea breeze, some strands getting lodged in her lipstick.

Rory put his hands on her waistband held her close. "Good," he said evenly, and then slid one arm around her waist and began to walk her down the shoreline.

Amy was watching the sea birds dive into the water, and Rory watched the sand they were walking on, heart pounding.

"Woah, careful," he said urgently, and pulled her path around a rare crab on the ground. Amy didn't look happy at getting thrown around.

"I can handle myself, Rory," she grumbled, but let him keep his arm around her.

They walked for a bit longer, until their hair was completely windblown and their lips tasted like salt.

"Amy, I - I wanted to ask you something," Rory said. He could feel his pulse in his throat, and he kept his eyes on the sand in front of them.

"What is it?" Amy asked, able to sense this was serious, but sounding wary.

"Amy…" Rory let go of her waist, moved in front of her, and knelt. "I…" he trailed off as he felt in his pocket for the ring. The ring, where was the ring?!

Rory remembered all at once in agonizing detail. They were still in his other jeans. Of course this would happen to _him_, of all people.

"Rory?" Amy asked, frowning and raising an eyebrow as she cocked her head to the side in question.

"I don't feel well." Rory doubled over, holding his stomach.

"You okay?" Amy asked as she knelt next to him, rubbing his back.

"Do I look okay?" Rory asked weakly.

"Don't throw up on me."

"I think I just need to sit awhile."

Amy looked at him searchingly for a moment before sitting in the sand, heedless of how the wet sand soaked the bottom of her yellow jeans. She pulled Rory down onto his seat as well, and leaned into his shoulder.

"You're cute," she said, and when Rory glanced down he could see her smiling into his chest.

"Thanks, you too," Rory said numbly, gently wrapping his arm around her. He sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** Thanks for reading, and enjoy. Poor Rory._

* * *

><p><em>I kinda feel like it don't make, like it don't make<em>  
><em>Feel like it don't make sense<em>  
><em>I'm thinking baby you and I are undeniable<em>  
><em>But I'm finding out love's unreliable<em>  
><em>I'm giving all I got to make you stay<em>  
><em>Or am I just a roadblock in your way?<em>

* * *

><p>Rory had a pathological need to check his pocket.<p>

_Ring still there? …Yep. Good._

Five minutes later he would find himself reaching for the inner jacket of his rented suit (not a tux, just a plain suit) for that reassuring weight.

It had taken a couple of weeks for Rory to get his confidence back, and another couple for him to plan something else. He couldn't _just ask_, it needed to be something special. Amy deserved that much. He was taking her to a classy restaurant, and he had the ring, so nothing could go wrong this time. As long as he kept it together.

He paced back and forth in Amy's front garden, trying to calm down his nerves. It was a patch of lumpy, light-green grass with a few stray wildflowers peeking up. Her aunt had died months after she'd come of age, so Amy just stayed in this old thing. It was so big, empty, and in such a state of disrepair, it always gave Rory the creeps. She said she liked the solitude, no one yammering while she tried to relax. Rory thought it was unsafe and unhealthy for her to live out here alone. Especially in this old house. But Rory knew why she really was staying.

The Doctor. Always the Doctor with her.

She was taking forever. Ever since Amy discovered makeup at fifteen, she was incorrigible, even though Rory barely noticed a difference. Rory sat on the top doorstep, angling his body away from the door, and pulled out the small box. It had taken him ages to save up for this thing. It was an elegant and simple ring, with one diamond and sloping gold band. He fingered the precious stone, stomach clenching as he thought of what Amy would think of it. Of him.

"Sorry to keep you waiting!" came Amy's voice behind him as the door swung open with a whine. Rory felt lightning shock and panic hit his chest while he fumbled with quietly closing the box and tucking it back into his pocket. He finally turned around, smiling, heart still pounding.

"It's no problem. Wow, you look amazing," he said, taking in her curled hair and the long, flowing purple dress that accentuated her willowy body. He hadn't seen it before.

"I know," she said with a smirk, and strode up to him, sliding her palms down his shoulders to his chest. "And look at you, all fancy! I can hardly recognize you without a vest or a hoodie!" She said, toying with the seam of his jacket. Her fingertips left his skin tingling warmly, and he was nervous she'd feel the square shape in his jacket. "And I love your hair. It's a nice change of pace," she said, running a finger along the top of his hair, carefully combed to the side.

"Thanks, glad you noticed," Rory said, and then moved away. Amy frowned for a second, but looped her arm through his as they walked down the steps.

"This is so great. You're spoiling me," she said as she climbed into Rory's little red car.

"You deserve it." Rory checked the mirrors, and then pulled onto the road.

"Don't say things like that," Amy reprimanded as she clipped her seatbelt into place. Rory was adamant about seatbelts.

"Why not?" Rory asked tightly. "You do."

"Just… don't. It's weird."

Rory just drove, quiet and a bit broody.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

"Don't look so sad," Amy said, making a puppy face, and putting a playful hand on his arm.

"Sorry."

"Stop apologizing. It's so English." Amy narrowed her eyes dangerously. Whether it was in jest or not was uncertain.

"Sor - Okay."

Amy giggled and retreated fully to the other side of the car. Rory wondered if she just liked to see how much power she had over him, which was nearly absolute. 'Nearly' being the last shred of his pride that Rory held onto with a grip that was all too loose.

"So, how was your day?" Rory asked warmly, unable to resist a smile. Amy was here, she was happy, and they were on their way to a fun and romantic evening. At least hopefully.

"Hmm, it was alright. Nothing exciting, really. Par for the course," Amy said with a disdainful look at the city through her window. The entire town of Leadworth was, according to her, unfortunately and terminally English; the little village had just carried on as always, and refused to be changed by events too big for it. But she dared not leave. Rule number one of Amy Pond: The Doctor.

Normally at this point in the conversation, you would expect the person to ask you the same question. Amy wasn't one to follow social cues for the sake of it, and Rory wasn't surprised when she didn't turn the question back on him.

"I've been thinking, maybe we should try and get his attention, you know?" she said, and suddenly seemed less confident, repeatedly smoothing out her dress.

"Why? He's got a time machine. If he wanted to come back, he would have done."

"Did you miss the part where he's a total idiot?" Amy asked with Scottish sarcasm. "Maybe he just needs some help."

Again, this endless obsession. Rory understood why she was this way, he really did. The Doctor had been the daydream and hope that carried her through a somewhat lonely childhood. Rory and Mels were her only friends, and it was really more of an outcast club than anything else. When at school, Rory was invisible, unless he was the butt of a joke. Mels had been a whirlwind. She was more of a charity case than a friend for Amy and Rory. A girl being raised in foster care who scared off anyone within five minutes because of her forceful nature. Of course Amy had been drawn to her, and Rory had followed along timidly, even though he'd normally never talk to such a scary girl. Then again, he had befriended Amy.

Since she had no family aside from her aunt, Amy tended to be something of a loner. More than once, Rory had been told to back off because she needed more time to herself. The Doctor had been a constant, her Raggedy Man who was always going to come back for her because he'd picked her. He couldn't truly fault her for that when they were growing up, and Mels had disappeared to 'see the world' as she called it, 'end up in prison' as Amy and Rory called it (something they actually agreed on).

But now?

"Amy, maybe it's time to grow up," he suggested as gently as possible. "He's gone. He saved the planet, now he's gone off."

"Grow up?" Amy asked sharply. Okay, wrong choice of words. "How can you tell me to grow up?! You're the one that needs to grow up! Think about it Rory, all those planets and aliens that are out there, and you just want to stay here in Leadworth?"

_I don't care about Leadworth, I'd follow you anywhere_, Rory thought, but kept it to himself. "Yeah, I know. I've been reading up on theories, researching stuff. Aliens are everywhere and no one even realizes it," Rory said, gesturing with the hand that wasn't driving. He was really interested by other worlds too - it was impossible not to be - but Amy didn't know how to let it go.

"Exactly! And I've only got one life, I don't want to waste it here in the exact same way that everyone else does," she said, picking up on the half-positive response she'd gotten.

"But you can't just run away from all this Amy. People here care about you."

Amy scowled. "Really? Because I hadn't noticed," she grumbled. Rory winced, that stung, but he said nothing else.

They drifted off into other channels of conversation for the rest of the car ride to the nearest actual city (Leadworth didn't have any fancy restaurants), and they were both laughing at Amy's story of how she'd been trying to subdue a squirrel that had gotten into her house yesterday. This, right here, Rory could do.

"Ready, Miss Pond?" Rory asked, opening the door for Amy and extending an arm with a dorky grin.

"Thank you, kind sir," Amy said. Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she linked her arm in his and slammed the car door shut. They entered the establishment, a small but pleasant place. They were instantly taken to a small round table that had two candles.

"Can I get you some champagne?" their pretty server asked after lighting the candles.

"Yeah, white chardonnay for both of us, right?" Rory asked, glancing at Amy for confirmation.

"Yep," Amy answered cheerfully. "As a rule, I never drink it unless I can't say its name when I'm drunk."

The server laughed and left, and they fell into pleasant conversation until their champagne was brought, and then gave their orders. Amy was pretty big on eating healthy and took the gluten-free option, while Rory went with some red pasta.

Rory swallowed as Amy took a sip of her champagne - this was going to be a slightly more difficult part.

"Um, Amy, I think you've got a little-" he gestured to his face.

"I've got a what?" Amy asked, looking confused.

"You know," he said, gesturing to his face again.

"O - kay…" Amy said, cocking her head. Her attention was grabbed by - something. She just sort of jerked, and then laughed. "Oh, that's my phone!" she said.

"Your phone? But you don't have any pockets…" Rory trailed off when Amy whipped her phone out of her dress. He didn't know girls actually, really kept their phones… _there_… He tried not to stare at the object and think about where it had been.

"Oh, it's Marie! I've got to take this!" Amy said apologetically, and then rushed off in the direction of the restrooms. Rory sighed. One way was as good as another, he supposed.

He glanced around (not that it mattered), pulled out the box, and opened it. The diamond glinted and glittered in the low, rich light of the candles. He pulled out the band, and with a deep breath, dropped it into Amy's glass. Done.

He pulled out his own phone after waiting about five minutes (out of a proper pocket, thank you very much), and had played several games of a cheap rip off of Pong when his girlfriend (_girlfriend_!) reappeared.

"Sorry that took so long," Amy said, grinning. Rory tucked his phone away, and was rather relieved that hers was already out of sight. He could feel his pulse in his neck, and he forced himself not to glance at her glass.

"It's fine. Is everything okay?" he asked, smiling a bit in reflection of her.

"Yeah, Marie just called to tell me she's preggers!" Amy said excitedly. "And you know how she's a party animal, that'll be a big change."

Rory frowned. "She's got to lay off the booze, then."

"Yeah, that's what I told her. And she said she would if I would, so starting now, I won't drink a drop of alcohol until she's delivered," Amy said proudly.

"O-o-okay, that's nice," Rory stammered.

"You alright?" Amy asked suspiciously.

"Yeah, yeah, fine. Just fine. That's a nice thing to do," he said a bit woodenly.

"Women stick together," she joked, and placed an elbow on the table. Rory noticed her makeup all of a sudden - purple on the eyelid, black on the outside, blueish eyeliner, mascara…

"Hey, earth to Rory!" came Amy's voice, and he snapped out of it.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked again.

"Yes. Sorry. I'm always great when you're here," Rory told her. A bit mushy, but it reminded him that he was happy she was here, and helped him swallow the cold disappointment in his stomach.

Amy looked kind of embarrassed. "Wow. That's weird. Even though we've been together so long, I still think of you as my best friend. And you say stuff like that and it just… sounds weird," she said. Rory felt like an idiot now.

But then, Amy did like idiots, after all.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** This chapter was mostly inspired by the picture that River finds in Amy's room in Pandorica Opens, of Amy and Rory in these costumes. Poor, poor Rory. Oh, and for those of you who live in the US and Canada, 'potholing' is apparently the English word for 'spelunking'. Who knew. Thanks for reading!_

* * *

><p><em>'Cause your a pretty little windstorm<em>  
><em>Out on the boulevard<em>  
><em>Something like a sunset<em>  
><em>Oh, you're a shooting star<em>  
><em>And I might drive myself insane<em>  
><em>If those lips aren't speaking my name<em>

* * *

><p>This time, this time he would do it right, Rory told himself. No mistakes.<p>

He'd only taken about a week to get this one ready. It was a simple enough plan; couldn't go wrong. …Right?

Tonight was Halloween, Amy's favourite time of the year. She'd dressed up in her policewoman costume, the one that made Rory go a bit red in the face every time he looked at her. Rory had worked for weeks on his Roman costume: He'd saved up for the high quality armor, and had sewn his own cape. With the combined help of several youtube videos, and kindly old ladies that lived down the street, he had it done; even though his hands looked like he'd been doing acupuncture therapy - that much Amy had assured him.

He and Amy had gone to the town costume party, a small (as everything was in Leadworth) affair at the park that were nearby the ruins. They had a great time, and Rory had made sure to have several friends take pictures of the two of them in their costumes, to be treasured (hopefully) by the two of them for years to come. They had both received tons of compliments on their respective costumes. Now things were dying down, and people were streaming out to go home - Leadworth was not a partying town by any stretch of the word. Half the inhabitants were over seventy years old.

The two of them had separated themselves from the general rabble and found an unoccupied patch of grass, and held hands while they talked and looked up at the stars. So far, things had gone well. Upon Amy's declaration that she was hungry, they both got up and started heading out. Everyone else was long gone, they were the only ones, it seemed, under the stars tonight.

"Want to go and get a sandwich?" Rory offered with an easy smile, his arm around her waist. She had an arm slung in casual camaraderie around his shoulders, her free arm swinging carelessly by her side as they walked away from the park.

"I'm always up for a sandwich," Amy said with a flirtatious smile as she glanced at the time on her phone, "even if it's almost midnight on a Tuesday. Who's even open?"

"Larry's usually still open on nights like this. Though we might give the poor man a heart attack looking like this," Rory joked, though a bit worried - he'd treated the man as a nurse, so he knew how fragile he could be.

"Not unless he's been up to something that he wouldn't want either a policewoman or an ancient warrior to know about," she joked, earning a light laugh from Rory.

"Keeping the peace from 50 BC to 2010 AD, Williams and Pond," Rory joked.

"Justice through the millennia," Amy agreed, laughing.

The moon was just a thin curve in the sky, obscured by a thin cloud cover. There were only gentle sounds of the wind groaning as they walked through the main street of the town; most people's lights were already out.

There was an atmosphere of peace about the place that Rory had never felt anywhere else. It felt like the rest of the world was racing against time, and this town was the tortoise that would rather lag behind and smell the roses.

Really, Rory would be totally content to spend the rest of his life here. He wanted to travel a bit, first, but after the initial experience of the rest of the world, this seemed like the perfect place to build a life and watch the years go by. Amy, of course, always said she was getting out of here first chance she got; and she probably would have already, if not for the imaginary friend that came to life.

"I really love you," Rory said matter-of-factly. There was a pregnant pause.

"You're so sweet," Amy said gently, and pulled herself a bit closer.

Rory sighed internally. He supposed that beggars couldn't be choosers: he was finally dating the girl he'd been in love with since he was six; if she couldn't say three little words, who was he to complain? Amy had never been too much of a talker, anyway - she was a doer. She took the axiom 'actions are louder than words' much more seriously than the average person.

"Thanks. Erm, Amy?" Rory said, his heart beating faster. They were almost to the shop, it was just around the corner.

"Yeah?" she asked, frowning. Rory swallowed, and began delivering the little speech he'd cooked up for the occasion. They walked slowly, Amy's eyes on his and his eyes looking resolutely ahead.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me. And. If I could make your life any better by being in it, if you'd let me, then I'd be honored if you would let me-"

Then he stopped. He looked at the window of the sandwich shop, a sizable affair that usually had very few posters or messages on it; the one that was supposed to have a sign saying 'Amy will you marry me?' taking up the whole window. He'd given the sign to Larry today, asked for it to be put up.

"Rory?" Amy asked, getting in front of him, concern making her eyes squint.

Rory just stayed silent. He just stared at the window, giving it a sarcastic glare. Because the sign he'd made was a tarp-like material, to which he had applied the immortal words in paint, which had looked great during the daytime. However, he had failed to consider that at nighttime, the only light would probably be from inside the shop, and the sign was too thick for the light to shine through, making the grand result essentially a big black cover on the window.

"-Buy you a sandwich. Any sandwich you want," Rory said, quickly slinging his arm around her and pulling her inside.

"Congratulations!" Larry said happily from where he stood behind the counter, crow's feet growing at the corners of his eyes.

"Um, thanks?" Amy said in confusion, but laughed lightly. Larry's smile faltered as he opened his mouth to speak.

"On our sandwich, clearly," Rory supplied quickly. "Best sandwiches in town."

Well, only a fool would argue a compliment, so Larry just smiled again and took their orders, only giving a short odd look to their attire.

Amy picked a small table off to the side, out of Larry's earshot as the man cleaned the counter. They sat, Rory a bit clumsily due to his slightly bulky outfit.

"Rory, you know you don't have to say stuff like that?" Amy said, after they were both about halfway through eating.

"You don't like it?" Rory asked a bit sulkily.

"No, it's just-" Amy cut herself off, then started again. "You don't have to worry, you know. About this. I'm happy with you."

Rory just nodded, suddenly too tired for this conversation. "For how long?" he asked quietly.

It was an honest question that Rory thought about often - for how long was she going to tolerate him? Amy was a mad flame, a crazy unstoppable force, and Rory was certain she'd have bored of him by now. She always seemed to find the most interesting boys in town to date - an Asian exchange student, a bloke who really liked potholing, another boy who was profanely good at any sport he tried; Jeff too, who was the school brainbox. Rory never trusted him. And, naturally the Doctor, who was better at being skinny than Rory and not to mention a great deal better at - _existing_, probably. The first time Rory saw him, he'd been caught up in the Doctor's whirlwind too.

He could still remember that day with Mels, when she'd so callously exposed him. All those years of pretending to follow Amy around just because they were friends, and bloody Mels had to go and just ruin it all in one fell swoop. Yet he had to admit it was probably better that way, since he doubted he would have ever had the courage to make a move on his own.

Running out into Amy's backyard, mortified and looking for somewhere to hide, he also remembered praying for death. Of course, things had gone better than he anticipated, and Amy had followed and they had a very short, halting, and incredibly awkward conversation.

"So, um," Amy had said. "You like me."

"Yeah," Rory said, and looked down, swinging his arms a bit.

"You like me a lot."

"Yeah, I'd say so, yep."

"Wow. Erm. …You wanna go out, then?"

"…Yes."

And ever since they'd been like this. Rory hoping this wasn't going to be the day she got bored, and Amy - well, who knew what Amy was ever thinking about. Probably just the Doctor. Everyone in the town had basically one reaction: 'it's about time'. Amy and Rory's reputations were closely intertwined, so most people assumed that it was always going to happen, even though Rory felt it was a miracle. Rory''s dad was the only person that had been well and truly shocked, and even now he didn't seem to be very optimistic.

Amy pursed her lips, the red lipstick still bright even in the somewhat dimly lit shop. "Rory, even if I don't want this some day way in the future, I'll always be your friend. Your best friend." Her eyes were sincere, her voice was certain. Amy was an all-or-nothing kind of person - and it seemed she was in an 'all' kind of mood. "And that day won't come any sooner, _if ever,_ if you don't kiss up to me."

Rory was momentarily speechless.

There were so many things running through his mind; to many emotions contending for dominance.

_I'm not kissing up, it's how I feel! _

_ I don't want to be friends, not when I've had a taste of this. _

_I've failed three times trying to propose to you, it's like the universe is trying to send a message. Very rudely._

_Oh God, I just really love you._

In the end he went with the last one and kissed her for real (knocking off his helmet in the process, giving old Larry a jolt), which neither of them objected to.


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:** So sorry for the late update. To make up for it I'll post to chapters today, and post the final chapter on Monday. This one went so very differently than I planned, but ultimately so much better. Now I know that there's apparently no Zipper rides in the UK, but pretend that there is for this story. Poor, poor Rory. And poor Piercing Peter._

* * *

><p><em>'Cause I got some intuition<em>  
><em>Or maybe I'm superstitious<em>  
><em>But I think you're a pretty sweet pill that I'm swallowing down<em>  
><em>To counter this addiction<em>  
><em>You got me on a mission<em>  
><em>Tell me darling can I get a break, some how<em>  
><em>Could I say no?<em>

* * *

><p>To be honest, Rory wasn't letting his hopes get up too high this time.<p>

The current plan was easy enough - they would go on the Ferris wheel, and when their cart was at the very top, and Rory could ask her right there to be his wife.

Of course, people had insisted on pointing out that all the other times, Rory could have asked anyway. He could have just asked her on the beach, even though he didn't have the ring. He could have gone ahead when Amy wouldn't drink the champagne, he could have simply popped the question at the sandwich shop. _Why didn't you just propose anyway?_ They asked. But they didn't get it. Amy wasn't like that. Sure, she'd probably be okay with it, but she deserved so much better. A lifetime of half-efforts on her behalf, of no one putting forth the time to make something truly special for her. And Rory would be damned before he let that happen to her; he refused to start this journey with her flippantly, as if it didn't mean to world to him.

Today was Fair Day in Leadworth, and there were all sorts of rides dotting the open green field, and pennants were flowing on strings in the light breeze.

Amy was dressed in her staple outfit of a miniskirt and leggings. Not just that, obviously. Rory was dressed in a regular plaid jacket. He'd debated adding a bow-tie.

"Where do you want to go first?" Rory asked, their joined hands swinging between them.

"Mmm… Ferris Wheel? Start slow and work upwards to the exciting rides," Amy said, somehow sounding regal.

"Um, how about the other way round? We go on the fast rides and then go on the wheel to wind down with some ice cream." Rory rather prided himself on the smooth tone of voice he used. He may or may not have practiced it a bit.

Amy giggled, a smile breaking through her slightly bored expression like sun through the clouds. "Sure thing, centurion." She'd taken to calling him that from time to time. Romans were her favorite subject in history, and Rory had shamelessly exploited that fact.

They started on some classic rides, scramblers and spinners and the like. They took a break for dinner at a little hamburger stand, and seated themselves on some nearby benches.

"Do you think I'd be good at - writing?" Amy asked, her tone very explicitly nonchalant. She was picking the pickles out of her burger with a disdainful expression.

"Um, I don't see why not," Rory answered after swallowing a bite. Bit off the wall, that was. "Your essays were always better than mine, at least."

That got a laugh out of Amy. Amy sometimes had points taken off for getting off subject or being too informal, but Rory usually struggled with making the writing actually interesting. He just wasn't good at expressing things on paper. Affecting the reader by writing something down always perplexed him. Whereas Amy, while wild, was full of rich imagery and metaphors, as well a good deal of dry wit. Rory could be witty when speaking, but he couldn't pin it down on a page.

"Can't deny that. I was just wondering. I mean…" she trailed off, and Rory waited. He had swallowed a whole other bite before she went on. "I mean, it's not like I want to be a kiss-o-gram forever."

That sparked something inside Rory. He hated that job, even though he never was one to tell Amy what to do. Or give an opinion on what she was doing, because with Amy that was nearly the same thing. Even the Doctor had disapproved somewhat. Rory wondered if that had been what tipped the scales.

"Oh," he said stupidly. Amy softly punched his arm.

"I know you hate it. Not that that's why I'm stopping." Amy looked at him expectantly, and so Rory stumbled over the first words that came into his head.

"Not that I don't think you - shouldn't. Like, that you can't enjoy it or whatever. It just - makes you cheap. N-not to me, though, but to them. They shouldn't be able to buy you."

Amy's eyes became deep and unreadable, and times like these Rory never knew what to expect. Not that he usually did.

"Um, about the writing thing - I was thinking, do you think I'd make a good journalist, then?"

Rory blinked in surprise. "Yeah - I think so. You mean be like Lois Lane or something, investigate the dangerous stuff that no one else will?"

"Does that make you Superman?" Amy joked.

"If you want me to be."

Amy got that look again, so Rory stopped talking and focused on doing putting the hamburger in his mouth instead of his foot.

This was the first time that Amy had ever shown an interest in an actual career. Before now she'd become vaguely interested in something for a few days and then forget about it. She'd gotten several offers to be a model, but she'd turned them down. _Those girls are too shallow for my taste_, she'd said. People that didn't know Amy well probably thought she was shallow too, but Rory knew better. She was too kind, too passionate, and too genuine to be that.

Rory's career had always been clear, even since he was young. His mum had died ages ago, but she'd been an ER worker and Rory had learned so much from her about being not only kind and caring, but brave and calm in a crisis. Although Rory disliked the more intense situations, he always knew he was meant to be a doctor.

"Come on, let's go on the Zipper," Amy said once she'd finished her sandwich, her smile warm and inviting. Rory threw away their trash and took her hand before walking off to get in line.

The Zipper was a ride that Rory could only describe as a demented Ferris Wheel. The track was like a long, rounded rectangle with the carts attached in pairs. The carts were pulled along the wheel on a belt, and in addition the entire wheel would rotate. And finally, the carts flipped around as well, and they were literally just big enough to fit two humans inside, shaped like an apostrophe. A _highly_ demented Ferris Wheel.

They stood in line for a while, looking around and waiting, before there came collective noises of disappointment from the ride next to theirs - the regular, holy Ferris Wheel. Both he and Amy listened as the conductor of that ride made an announcement in a strong Scottish lilt.

"Sorry folks, this ride is closed for today. Technical difficulties!"

Rory just stared blankly ahead. What had he been expecting to happen? Really? As if the universe would decide to be kind to him.

"Well, I guess ice cream on the ground is nearly as good." Amy spoke near his ear, a smile on her face.

"Yeah, suppose it is," Rory said dejectedly, before shaking it off. Sometimes, once this ride was over and they started unloading the carts, you could end up at the top for a minute or two. Why not? He just needed to be more flexible.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, just zoned a bit."

In a few minutes the ride ended and the slow process of replacing the people in the carriages began. They slowly worked their way up to the front of the line, and an attendant counted off how many people would fit on the ride, and roped off the rest of the line. Amy and Rory barely made the cut, the only person behind them being a young, nervous-looking girl.

The penultimate cart was unloaded, and the bloke in front of them stepped ahead to get in the cart.

"We're together," Rory explained quickly when they were given expectant looks. He gestured to the girl behind them. "Go on ahead."

She was a short thing, and looked up at him fearfully before looking at the man waiting in the cart. He was covered in piercings and tattoos, had long hair, and was wearing black with the occasional neon color.

"Go with him," Amy said, pushing Rory ahead of her.

"What? Why?" Rory said sharply, his brows coming together in confusion.

"Well, _she's_ not riding with _him_," Amy said in a condescending voice, gesturing to the quiet girl dressed in a floral shirt and looking far too nervous to be going on a ride like this. "Go, we'll go on every other ride together. I'll meet you after."

Rory withstood one more shove, with everyone looking impatiently at them, before striding forward and sliding in next to the other guy. He heard Amy saying something comforting like 'just us girls'. Room was tight on the tiny bench they occupied - Rory did his best to keep on his side. The attendant wordlessly slammed the mesh door shut and put the pin in place.

"Hey, I'm Peter." A friendly hand was extended. The man's voice was gruff and a bit Cockney but not unpleasant.

"Rory," said the owner of the name. He shook the offered hand and then fell silent.

"I've - never been on a ride this scary before," continued Piercing Peter. Rory looked at him half-incredulously. "Kinda claustrophobic." The ride jerked as they were moved off the ground so Amy and the other girl could get in. "And afraid of heights."

"Not the best suicide attempt I've ever seen, but definitely creative."

Peter laughed nervously. "No, my therapist said I need to face my fears." He fingered the piercing on his eyebrow.

"I'm pretty sure she didn't mean to give yourself a heart atta-"

And they were off. They swung madly, flipped this way and that. This ride made Rory a bit nervous and uncomfortable, but not frightened. Not like Piercing Peter. The man was _caterwauling_.

_I'm going to need hearing aids_, Rory thought distantly as his hand tightly gripped the bars in front of his shoulders. Peter screamed wordlessly, he screamed expletives, he screamed for death, he screamed for mercy. The ride went through a full cycle before slowing down.

"You okay?" Rory asked. The lighting wasn't great in here but he could see tears on Peter's face.

"That was amazing. I'm so glad I did that," Peter said in a choked voice. Rory wondered if the man was going into shock.

"Deep breaths."

"I feel so empowered."

They slowly jerked along the wheel until they were released. Piercing Peter was shaky but didn't seem in need of medical attention, so Rory left him alone and stood off to the side to wait for Amy. She was in the next carriage, and she got out first and then helped out the younger girl. Flower Shirt was smiling shyly, and hugged Amy before running off to a pair of people who were likely her parents.

Rory's mind began to work faster - sure, his plan was spoiled. But maybe he could still salvage this and make it special for them? Amy was walking toward him slowly as she pulled out her phone and unlocked it.

"Marie called while I was on the ride, I need to call her back," she said excitedly before putting the phone to her ear. "Hey! What's up? ...Oh really? Let me ask Rory!"

Amy whirled to face Rory, who had been watching her turned back. "What's the difference between fake contractions and real contractions?"

Marie _did_ have Rory's number. She could have called _him_.

"Um, false contractions get better if you move around, and they don't get closer together. They're normal to get in the second trimester." Marie was very nearly in her third trimester, he couldn't believe she didn't already know this information.

"Okay, Marie, stay calm," Amy said, pacing and gesturing. "Just walk around a bit, they should go away, you're fine."  
>Amy paced a while longer before turning to look at Rory, her eyes wide. "Rory, she said she thinks her water broke? But it's not water, it's kind of slimy-"<p>

"Mucus plug," Rory supplied quickly. He took Amy's arm and began to guide her to the exit. "Tell her to get to the hospital. And Brad needs to bring a bag of things, in case they end up at the hospital a long while." Rory wasn't specially trained in all this, but he knew the basics.

Amy repeated the instructions to Marie while the two of them broke into a jog once outside the gate.

_Guess tonight won't be a great night for a proposal_, Rory thought as he hurried to locate his dad's car. _ Better luck next time - or not._


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N:** Poor, poor Rory. I'm so mean to him. Oh, and does anyone even like basketball in the UK? Apparently some people still play it, but it didn't look like anyone really cared. Enjoy, folks._

* * *

><p><em>She's got a love like woe (Woe oh oh oh)<em>  
><em>Girl's got a love like woe (Woe oh oh oh)<em>  
><em>(Ba da da)<em>  
><em>I kinda feel like it don't make sense<em>  
><em>Because you're bringing me in<em>  
><em>And now you're kicking me out again<em>

_Love so strong (Woe oh oh oh)_  
><em>Then you moved on (Woe oh oh oh)<em>  
><em>Now I'm hung up in suspense<em>  
><em>Because you're bringing me in<em>  
><em>And then you're kicking me out again<em>

* * *

><p>This time, Rory was pretty sure nothing actually could go wrong.<p>

See, he would say that nothing could go wrong because this was the simplest plan ever, but he'd thought as much in the past. And that hadn't worked out so smoothly.

"When will she be here?" Rory's father asked, glancing at his watch from where he sat.

"Soon. Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?"

"Don't rush me, don't rush me. I'm going, in my own time."

Rory tried not to grind his teeth at his father's slow tone. His dad was supposed to be at Bowling Night, so Rory would have the house to himself for a few hours. But he was running late, and Rory didn't want to have this evening spoiled before it got started.

Best get busy elsewhere, then; Rory turned and walked out. He checked the refrigerator to make sure he had everything ready to go in there. Onions, wine, fresh thyme, beef broth, Swiss cheese. French onion soup was one of Amy's favorite dishes (it could be pretty healthy if you made it right), so Rory was inviting her over so he could make her dinner. Amy liked cooking, but didn't get around to doing it often. While Rory was no chef, he was good at following instructions, and he preferred home-cooked food.

Finally, _finally_, Rory could hear the sound of his dad getting up to leave.

"Don't have too much fun," Rory's father said accusingly. The man was peeking into the kitchen, a look on his face that Rory could identify as playful suspicion.

"Promise," Rory answered after a moment. His smile was genuine.

In the few minutes Rory had the house to himself, he wandered from room to room, the old nervousness beginning to rise again. The thing was, he honestly did not know if Amy would say yes or not. She was an enigma. It wasn't the old 'women are complicated' thing, Rory didn't believe in that anyway. It had nothing to do with her gender, she just refused to be defined or pinned down. Except being Scottish; she claimed _that_ label with pride.

Rory thought back to the night at the fair, when they had rushed off to the hospital to meet Marie. The doctors there were good, they got the situation under control and decided to do a C-section. The baby boy would be alright, he was just undersized since he was so early. Amy had rubbed Marie's shoulder while Brad held his son for the first time, tears in his eyes.

"Isn't this every girl's dream?" Marie had asked. She was beside herself with joy.

"Not every girl's dream," Amy had answered.

It was certainly Rory's dream.

The doorbell rang, and Rory jogged to the door.

"Hey!" Amy said loudly, and hugged Rory tightly. Amy had been spending a lot of time with Marie, understandably, and so they hadn't been seeing each other as much.

"Hey." Rory gladly wrapped his arms around her, and they swayed a moment before Amy pulled away.

"So, I was promised food. What's the special today, waiter?"

"French onion soup ma'am, if you'd care to step this way," Rory answered with a grin, his poshest accent, and a grand gesture.

Amy was good at cooking when she didn't get impatient and nuke the food. She started chopping the onions while Rory opened up the wine.

"I'm going to be a bit sad if there's no leftover wine," Amy said. She had been rather chomping at the bit for alcohol ever since Marie had delivered, and hadn't had the chance to get to a pub yet, though she didn't like to get seriously drunk. At least not often, anyway. Rory liked wine but preferred not to be drunk at all.

"There should be plenty leftover."

"Good. Are we watching a movie tonight?"

"I was thinking we could just, you know, enjoy each other's company," Rory answered while he got out the rest of the ingredients. He suddenly blushed. "Not... I didn't.."

"Don't worry, stupid, I know you're no playboy," Amy answered with a devilish half-grin.

It didn't take too long to get the soup cooking, and while they waited for it to be done, they got out some M&Ms and took turns trying to toss one into each other's mouths while they lounged on the sofa. So far they hadn't got one in once.

"No, wait, you just stay still and keep your mouth open," Amy said, laughing. Rory acquiesced and leaned his head back, opening his mouth wide.

"It's on now! From downtown, Pond shoots-" she threw the M&M in a perfect imitation of a free-throw- "she _scores_! Nothing but net!"

The candy went in Rory's mouth perfectly, and just then the timer for the soup went off.

"She made it! She singlehandedly won the team the championship!" Amy yelled enthusiastically, while Rory cheered and clapped.

Rory laughed as he swallowed the sweet and then asked permission with his eyes before kissing her lightly on the nose.

It didn't take long to grate some cheese for garnish and lay out the table. Rory had bought a candle, and it flickered between them even though the lights were still on.

They chatted about jobs and current events before the conversation turned back to Marie and Brad. They were doing fine, Amy assured him.

"Isn't it great," Rory said as he used some bread to soak up a bit of broth.

"What's great?"

"You know. Kids. A family." Rory kept his eyes down.

"Nah. I never want to have kids." Amy kept her eyes down as well.

Rory felt a cold stab in his stomach. The rest of the meal was eaten quickly in silence.

While they were washing up, Rory had come alongside Amy where she stood rinsing off the bowls.

"I wanted to show you something. Is that okay?" he asked quietly. Amy turned, her hazel eyes turned dark in the somewhat low light. The sun had gone down hours ago, and the lightbulbs in the kitchen were almost burnt out.

"Of course it is, idiot." She smiled, and kissed his cheek. Rory felt warmth blossom there. He couldn't stop the stupid grin.

Once the dishes were all put away, he led her outside, his hands over her eyes.

"Don't peek!" he warned, smiling.

"You can't stop me," Amy said raising her eyebrows challengingly.

They made their way to the center of the backyard, where Rory had her stay.

"Now, you can't open your eyes yet. I have to run inside and get something first. Don't peek!" Rory yelled the last sentence as he turned and made good on his word, sprinting inside. He scurried into his room, and grabbed a torch, and a bouquet. It was a brightly colored arrangement, perfect for Amy. He'd put the ring around one of the roses earlier.

As he ran back outside, doing his best not to harm the flowers, all his racing thoughts aligned.

_This is it. This is really happening. Now._

Amy was still standing in the spot he'd placed her, eyes closed and arms crossed, all her weight on one leg. When she heard him coming she moved her hands to her hips.

"What took so long? Why am I standing here?" she yelled curiously. Rory wasn't sure how she could yell without sounding mean.

"Okay," Rory said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "Now, look - this way - and... open your eyes!"

His heart was pounding in his throat as he turned on the torch and pointed it at the side of the house. He'd re-purposed the sign from his third attempt at the sandwich shop and hung it on the house.

Amy went rigid as she looked at the sign, the beam of light somewhat unsteady in Rory's hand. Rory swallowed despite the lack of response and went down to one knee, holding out the bouquet.

"Amy," he began, a bit shaky. "You are the love of my life. You have been since the moment I met you. I know I'm not much. I know I'm not special or exciting or brilliant and I can't take you to other planets. But I can promise that I will always be here. I would be honoured if you would be my wife."

It was short, simple, no shenanigans. Like Rory. He looked up at her, trying not to appear pathetic or imploring. Just patient.

Amy's face was blank with shock.

"Rory, I-"

She placed her hand over her mouth, shaking her head.

She took one step backwards, the another. Then she ran away. Ran straight into the dark, without looking back.

Rory sat back on the grass, and let the flowers fall limply to the ground.

He should have known this would happen. Of course Amy wouldn't marry him, of all people!

She wouldn't marry anyone, probably.

Rory could remember one time when they were kids and Amy had wanted to do a make-believe wedding. She'd made Rory wear the dress, because she never wanted to be a bride. Those exact words. But he'd hoped - that maybe she'd change her mind for him?

Rory started to search for the ring that he'd placed on the centre rose - who knew what he'd do with it now? But he couldn't find it. Groaning in annoyance, he turned on the torch and began to inspect the bouquet. The ring was nowhere to be seen. He halfheartedly dragged the beam over the ground around him, but there was still no telltale glimmer of gold or the twinkle of a diamond.

But in the end, what did it matter?

Amy said no.


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N:** Thanks to anyone who is still reading. Hope you enjoyed. _

* * *

><p><em>Because we only have one life<em>  
><em>The timing and the moment<em>  
><em>All seem so right<em>  
><em>So would you say you're mine? (We'll be just fine)<em>  
><em>Would you say you're mine? (We'll be just fine)<em>

* * *

><p>Rory stared blankly at the ceiling.<p>

It felt like he'd been lying there for years, like his existence had ceased to be linear and instead had imploded into this, right here. Gazing blankly at the textured drywall above him, the feel of his scratchy duvet under him, with an uncomfortable lump pressing into his lower back.

He hadn't let himself cry about it until morning. The first thing he did was tear down the sign before dejectedly throwing it away. Then he'd gone straight to his room and locked the door. His dad knocked once, and after receiving no reply, had left him alone. Rory didn't sleep all night, his thoughts on a maddening loop in his head as he lay on top of his covers. When the sun began to lighten the sky to a murky grey, the sickening feeling that had been turning over in his stomach suddenly gripped his throat, and he started to quietly cry.

Rory wasn't prone to crying or self pity; he never had been. But the combined frustration from all his failures, the sting of rejection, the loss of the girl of his dreams, and just the general downer of_ being Rory_ had slammed down on him all at once.

Now he was just staring upwards while his face dried.

_This is it. The end. I've finally screwed it up, just like I always knew I would._

What was he going to do now? Probably just continue pursuing his doctor dream. He still had that.

It took a massive effort, but Rory got himself up and shuffled to the adjoining bathroom to splash some water on his face, washing away the salt trails. He stared at his own face in the mirror - a big nose, and small lips. Plain hair. Plain skin.

The next thing Rory did was take down all the mementos of Amy that decorated the walls. Pictures, old drawings of Rory dressed as the Doctor, movie tickets and the like. He put them into his previously empty wastebasket and then sat back on his mattress. Staring at that now full wastebasket made him think that he'd quite like to cry again. His eyes stayed dry, to his annoyance.

A knock came on the door.

"Rory, d'you want some eggs? I made some eggs." Rory's dad wasn't an idiot; he could probably put things together for himself.

"No thanks, dad. Not hungry." His voice sounded swollen in his own ears.

"Are you sure? I made strawberry milk too. Your favorite."

Rory didn't bother reminding his father that he hadn't said such a thing for half a decade. The offer was appreciated, but Rory knew better than to be around anyone right now.

"Maybe later," Rory answered.

"Alright then. I'll leave it in the fridge for when you get hungry."

Rory doubted he'd get hungry at all today. He pulled out his phone and glanced over his work schedule. He had the night shift tonight, so he'd best get some sleep before heading in. He lay out on his bed, but he ended up staring at the ceiling again.

Another knock sounded.

"Dad, can you please leave me alone? I need to sleep," Rory said, hoping to sound irritable but just sounding pathetic instead.

The door opened, and Rory sighed. His dad was terrible at comfort.

There was a rather long pause, during which Rory prepared himself for all the usual platitudes.

"Well, that's rude."

Rory's eyes snapped to the doorway, where Amy was standing as she looked at the wastebasket. Her voice was righteously offended, but her eyes belied the tone.

"I never thought you the spiteful type." Now she seemed fully bitter, and her hands were tightly closed.

"I - I didn't want to look at it, and that was the only empty container I had." Rory wasn't totally sure if that was the entire truth.

Rory looked closely at Amy, who was wearing the same clothes as last night. He saw that her eyes looked puffy and red, like she hadn't slept all night either.

"I unpacked the bag." She said it like she was confused. Rory blinked in surprise.

"The one you kept packed for-"

"Yeah."

"Wow."

"I know."

Amy crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, and Rory sat up, putting his hands on his knees.

"I thought he was coming back this time, Rory," she said. Her voice sounded strangely choked. Once again, Rory had to keep his shock in check. "I really thought he was going to come back for me." Rory could see her face begin twist in grief. It was a sharper pain than anything he'd ever felt. Until now he'd never truly understood the word _compassion_. Even though every cell of his body was screaming at him to rush over to Amy and hug her for all he was worth, he held back. He knew better than to give Amy something that she hadn't asked for, especially now.

Tears brimmed in her eyes, and she ducked her head, putting the heels of her hands into her eye sockets. "Hug me, you idiot!" she hiccuped loudly.

Rory took no more convincing, and quickly wrapped her up in his arms. She buried her head in his shoulder, and all Rory could think that this was worse than seeing her run away. She cried into his shoulder for a few more minutes while he rocked her back and forth, surprised to find that he had to swallow back his own tears. It was just that kind of day. Right here, in this moment, he wanted to meet the Doctor again, just so that he could punch the alien (or whatever he was) in the face. Amy didn't deserve this.

"Rory?" she said after a while.

"Yes?"

"You're hurting me."

Rory realized he was holding her so tightly that his muscles were aching, and he quickly let go. Amy wiped at her eyes, smearing makeup everywhere. She glanced into her reflection through the open door to the bathroom.

"Not my finest moment," she said with a laugh that was thick and sloppy. Rory got her some tissues and waited until she'd cleaned her face up, and then sat her on his bed. He sat next to her, not knowing what to expect. When Amy was completely and totally composed, she spoke up.

"Oh, I almost forgot." She reached into her pocket, and pulled out - _the ring?_

Rory stared at it, more bewildered than he ever had been in his life.

"Where did you find that?" he asked, pointing at it. He was honestly surprised his mouth was still working. Amy rolled her eyes.

"Would you do the honours?" she said, tucking the ring into his palm, and the holding her hand out, fingers extended with feminine grace. Rory balked.

"Are you sure?" he asked uncertainly, looking at the flawless, mannequin-like hand in front of him.

"Not really," Amy answered.

Rory would take what he could get. He slipped the ring onto her finger. A perfect fit, and the band suited her well.

"Wow. That just happened," Amy said. She looked at her ring finger like it was a calculus equation.

"I love you, Amy."

Amy kissed him, and Rory kissed back. It was a moment Rory wanted to live in. When they finally pulled apart, Rory hugged her briefly before finding the box the ring went in.

"Here, let's keep it in here." The phrase _because you'll probably lose it otherwise_ didn't need to be said. Amy's room was haphazard and she lost things often. Rory, on the other hand, was meticulous in nature and rarely lost anything. Rory was terrified that she'd lose the ring and then use that as an excuse to back out, irrational though it might be.

"Yeah, that's probably smart," Amy admitted, and slipped the ring off and tucked it snugly into the box.

She hugged him again. Rory saw no reason to object. He took care not to grip her as tightly as last time, but still held her snugly to himself, all too aware that he had no guarantee she would stay.

"Thanks for being there," she whispered.

"Always."


End file.
